Our Choices Seal Our Fate
by wandertogondor
Summary: Bad habits either die hard or don't really die at all. Inspired by Mumford and Son's "Broken Crown."


**This story is dedicated to MicroPoe10. Our friendship has developed so much in little less than a month and I think this is the only way I can clearly tell you how grateful I am to you. Thank you for the Yorks (I've almost finished the entire bag in little less than two days) and thank you for my own box set of Season One! You're an amazing writer and a friend and I couldn't ask for anymore.**

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Ruthie didn't know what she was in for when she followed Sam Winchester. He said it would only be a quick job - in and out - but there was something in the way he moved that set her on the edge. Given, Ruthie wasn't a hunter but she sure knew well enough to listen to her gut.

"I can come with you." She had leaned down to look through the driver's window, searching Sam's face for any hint of anything at all to confirm her suspicion.

He just shook his head. "I can't risk throwing you in the crossfire."

When he sped away, Ruthie was on his tail.

Sure as hell.

She hadn't always been recklessly devoted with an insanely tall hunter. That would've been too bold a move for a preacher's daughter. But here she was, following the Sam Winchester little monsters had nightmares about.

Ruthie kept a keen eye on the Impala as it wound and wove through the West Virginian countryside. Her eyes narrowed and her expressions closed in a distant interest. He had been on edge ever since Dean had gone dark side and, though it affected the both of them, he took the brunt of the loss. It was tearing him apart rib from rib. A little bit of Sam died when Dean had.

The Impala finally went through the gates of a large abandoned warehouse, sitting just on the shores of the Summerville Lake. A wall of stone rose above the warehouse on one side, just dim and ominous looking shadows in the light of the moon. Ruthie shivered at the sight as she cranked her car to park ways behind the Impala.

Maybe Sam just wanted to get some alone time in the concaves of spooky looking building. He was fully capable of killing any spirits in there anyway, right? Ruthie talked herself in lagging back for a while, telling herself that he just needed time to cope and realize that there was no bringing Dean back this time. Hell, she knew that she needed time to tell herself that too.

But when she heard a shrill scream echoing from the warehouse she took off in a dead sprint. Her elbows pumped at her side and she leaned forward just enough to keep the right momentum. She never would have thought in her wildest dreams that eight years of track would get her ready for a moment like this. A moment where she would have to sprint right into a creepy warehouse to jump head on into the fray.

"Sam!" She was screaming at the top of her lungs, sharply sucking in the air to caught herself at the door. "Sam!"

Her fist banged on the metal containment before she was off squinting into the darkness for another point of entrance. All her effort went into getting in because if she lost him then she'd be sure to lose herself. Dean was what kept Sam grounded but Sam was who kept her sane. She needed him to be alive because she couldn't imagine a world that was not one but two Winchester's short.

At one corner of the building, Ruthie caught sight of a tall, narrow window. She braced her fist against her chest and shattered the glass with her elbow. It took her a few tries and awkward starting jumps but she managed to haul her body into the blanket of darkness. As soon as her boots hit the ground she was sprinting through the maze of pitch black halls and toward where the she thought the door was.

The screaming had long since stopped and every time Ruthie's boots skid against the dirt covered floor the sound pounded against the walls. It sent a chill down her spine and she pushed herself further and faster because she just knew that if she stopped that invisible monster right on her heel would devour her whole.

She would _not_ be the victim that Sam would have to inspect in a body bag. She wouldn't.

Far at the end of the long hallway, Ruthie caught the soft glow of light against the pale green walls. Her strides slowed and she walked the little ways to the end of the hall, wary of the corner that she was approaching. Her back was flush against the wall as she cautiously inched toward the bend, briefly daring herself to look back at where she had come expecting to see some ghostly visage flash toward her.

There was nothing.

"Okay," she told herself, "don't just stand here in the dark. Turn that corner and at least you'll be able to see ten feet in front of you at one time. You're safer in the light. Nothing can scare you in the light."

She regretted that. Anything could scare her in the light. And she was terrified when she turned the bend to see Sam Winchester leaning over the corpse of a demon, drinking its blood. Ruthie spoke his name but she could barely hear herself saying it.

"Sam?" Her voice was louder now, his name still catching in her throat. "Sam."

Sam's shoulders tensed at the sound of her. He raised his head, still looking forward into the singular bald light bulb hanging from the rafters.

"I told you not to follow me." His voice was just as dark as the halls she had sprinted to get this far.

"Sam," she was forcing back tears, squinting past the blurry sight, "there's still time. There's still a way to grace."

"How dare you talk about grace?!" Sam was up on his feet and spun toward her. His face was covered in blood and his eyes glowered dimly. It was almost animalistic. He pointed at her threateningly. "Don't you dare talk about grace. I lost any chances of that a long time ago."

Ruthie put her hands up while stepping back slightly. She couldn't hold back the tears now. "You can fight it. You're a good man. You deserve it."

Sam scoffed, nearly laughing in her face as his body came closer and closer, blocking out the light entirely. "There's no dealing it away," his tone softened. "Not this time."

She took his hand, like she had always done before, entwining her fingers through his, watching his face for any sign of retaliation. "I'm not leaving you here. Not in this darkness. Not in this filth."

"I can't go down this road again."

"No," she whispered gently only offering a small smile in comfort, "no, you can't. Come on, we'll go home. Safe and tucked away."

"There's no way out." Sam's breath wisped around her face as he pulled his fingers from hers and nearly yanked out his hair at the sudden realization. "I've got nothing left."

Dragging his eyes down at the bleeding corpse, Sam shut his eyes tight, knocking his forehead against the wall and repeating, "I've got nothing left," under his breath.

"Come on, Sam," Ruthie drifted forward. "We're going to go home and I'm going to clean you up."

Somehow, she managed to get Sam Winchester out of that warehouse, coaxing with sweet words and sultry eyes until he believed her.

The sun was just rising up against that high treeline situated on the wall of rock on one side of the lake. And Ruthie knew quite well that in that moment - the moment when the sun's light kissed Sam Winchester's face - that he was on the road to redemption.


End file.
